A rose made of blood
where the thorn cruelly cuts me
blossoms in my palm.
I, a rose...made of flesh...blood
rivalling thorn's red flower.
*******
Thorn bleeds with my blood
pouring red into white rose
my humanity
unable to change Nature's
design - white rose remain...white.
******
I received the tangled hair...it is beautiful...thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Reminds me the O.Wildes wonderful tale about the nightingale and the red rose... humanity or an act of humanity are unable to change the design and the scheme of the nature...